It's finally here!
I know you're all waiting patiently for Peter and Carla to get back together - unfortunately, I love a slow-burner! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, I sometimes find this fic difficult to write because I struggle to write things that aren't completely drama-filled, but your lovely reviews really spur me on.
Please note, I have absolutely zero medical knowledge, have never had a baby and owe all of my perceptions of scans/pre-natal appointments to Holby City and Grey's Anatomy.
Hope you all enjoy!
Carla squinted into the mirror that was propped open in front of her on the kitchen table as she carefully lined her lips with a flattering beige shade. She could see in the reflection that Michelle was hovering behind her, watching her closely with her arms folded across her chest, and Carla effortlessly kinked one of her perfectly-arched eyebrows.
"Stop staring," she complained, pressing her plump lips together and letting the heavy lipstick that she'd already applied to her upper lip transfer onto her lower one before pouting and admiring her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was quickly becoming a mess of bumps and discoloration that she'd concealed with foundation, but despite that inconvenience, pregnancy was giving a healthy, happy glow to her cheeks.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Michelle asked, tentatively, "I don't think this is something you should be doing alone."
"I won't be," Carla quickly assured her, a knowing smile creeping up on her lips as she placed the palm of her hand against her stomach, which seemed to have grown slightly rounder in the last few days, "Peter will be here soon."
"And what if he's not?"
"He will be."
"Carla…" Michelle sighed in exasperation, perching on the arm of the sofa as her best friend turned in her seat to give her a stern warning look. "What if they've decided that he's not well enough to come out yet and he's too scared to let you know?"
"Peter is not scared of me, Michelle," Carla retorted, "They were looking to release him at half ten; it's now just gone eleven, he'll be home any minute. If there was a problem, he'd have called. He wouldn't have just stood me up."
"Well…" Michelle raised her arms and then let them drop back down to her thighs, "Can't you just meet him there at least? Save some time? You don't want to be late, and then at least if he is a no-show, you'll be in the right place." Carla firmly shook her head.
"Peter will want to drive me."
"Can he even drive in his state?"
"He's not dying, 'Chelle," she snapped back, turning back to her reflection and fluffing her hair in the mirror, before scraping her chair back against the floor and rising to her feet, slowly to prevent her head from spinning as she did so. The nausea had subsided massively of late, which was a welcome relief as she'd needed to work as solidly as possible to keep herself distracted from worrying about the father of her baby, but she still needed to be cautious. She glanced down at her watch quickly, not wanting to show Michelle that she was just as concerned that Peter wouldn't make it in time as she was. She knew that he would be desperate to be at their twelve-week scan and that he would do everything he could to convince the rehab center to release him, but there was every chance that they would consider him to be just too sick to leave. And in that scenario, Carla would go to the scan alone. As petrified as she was that it would be a mirrored event of the last time she'd had the cool jelly smeared over her bulging stomach, she was adamant that nobody else besides her would get to see their baby before Peter did. She would even go as far as to keep the scan photos hidden until she could show them to him first.
"I know why you're worried." Michelle moved to stand in front of her friend and touched her shoulders reassuringly, bending at the knee to try to look into Carla's eyes, which were trained to the floor. "Peter missing this appointment is not an omen. It's not going to be like last time."
"You don't know that. I'm older now, there are so many more things that could go wrong."
"They won't. You and Peter have been through enough already, this baby is the world's way of giving you two a break."
"Yeah, we'll see," Carla scoffed, breaking away from her and moving back over to the kitchen table, where she started to collect up her makeup and stuff it into her handbag. She had a feeling she'd need to reapply her mascara after her hospital visit. "I reckon there's someone up there laughing at me, at the state I've got myself into. This whole one-baby-two-dads-in-the-same-family thing doesn't happen to normal women."
"You've never been a 'normal woman', Car," Michelle teased, lightheartedly, attempting to lift Carla's mood as she watched her busy herself with tidying up and gathering her belongings together, "But it's getting really late. Are you sure you don't want me to drive you? We can always wait for Peter outside." Carla hesitated, cursing her out-of-control hormones as she felt her eyes begin to prickle with tears. She glanced over her shoulder at her friend as she slowly, reluctantly nodded her head, pressing her lips together as she started to feel the lower one tremble.
"Yeah, go on then," she uttered softly, before trying to force the corners of her lips to tweak up into a strained smile, "I'll let you buy me a coffee afterwards as well."
"Decaf."
"Spoilsport." She jolted as the back door creaked open and stared at the living room doorway, expecting to see Johnny materialize to wish her luck. What she saw instead made her gasp in sheer happiness, her smile stretching into a wide, toothy grin. Peter smiled back at her, noting her obvious surprise.
"You weren't expecting me to miss my baby's first scan, were you?" he asked. Carla didn't answer him, instead crossing the room and throwing her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly and breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave. He wrapped his own arms around her waist and held her just as snugly, nodding his head at Michelle in greeting over Carla's shoulder before closing his eyes and losing himself in her welcome embrace.
Peter affectionately laced his fingers through Carla's and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, which she was grateful for as the sonographer squirted an ice-cold line of gel onto her bare stomach, making her flinch. Peter only squeezed tighter, running his thumb in circles over her knucklebone.
"Hey," he whispered into her ear, "Imagine if it's twins." Carla shot him a playful glare.
"If it's twins, I'm blaming you," she teased, "That's your gene." She watched closely, holding her breath, as the sonographer gently pressed the ultrasound probe against her stomach, where a very small bump had started to form, barely visible to anybody who was unaware of Carla's pregnancy. The sonographer started to slowly move the probe in a pattern across her stomach, and Carla stared at the monitor beside her, willing the image to change, or for something, anything to happen. She couldn't breathe. The room was eerily silent, save only for Peter's unsteady breaths from beside her, a sign that although he was significantly more able than he had been the last time she'd seen him, he was still gravely ill. Her chest ached, waves of nausea filling her entire body and making her feel sick at how familiar this scenario was. She could see it playing out in front of her all over again, the sonographer fearfully calling a colleague into the room for a second opinion, the two of them whispering to each other, panicked, looking over at her like she was about to combust. Asking her if there was anyone with her, anyone she could call. Michelle running into the room, clinging to her tightly, crying with her as she was told that her baby, the one thing giving her a reason to live after Peter had done what he'd done, had died. That she'd already failed her as a mother, before she'd even taken a breath in the world. Carla swallowed down the lumped that had formed in her throat as a warm tear trickled down her cheek. Peter caught it with his finger and brushed it away, wrapping his spare arm around her shoulders. He wasn't plagued by the same memories she had, but he'd been there, he remembered the intense pain he'd felt when he'd found out that she had miscarried their baby all those years ago. And he'd been by Leanne's side when they'd been in a similar situation, watching an ultrasound screen without the sound of a steady heartbeat filling the room. It hurt for him, too. He squeezed her hand again.
Suddenly, the monitor flickered to life, revealing a blurry black and white image, and a carefully, delicate thudding sound filled both of their ears. Carla finally released the breath she'd been holding and relaxed, staring at the image, making out the distinguishable curve of the baby's head, legs kicking out at a funny angle. She covered her mouth with her hand, completely lost for words.
"And there is your baby…" the sonographer said. They watched in amazement as she pointed out the legs, the body and the head, which they'd already managed to decipher but were still fascinated by.
"Is it okay?" Peter asked, surprised to find his voice cracking with emotion. The sonographer nodded and flashed him a warm, understanding smile. They'd explained their history to her; she knew why this baby meant so much to them. Their rainbow baby, after all these years.
"Everything looks fine to me," she assured them. Breathing a sigh of relief, Peter pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Carla's head before resting his own head against hers, the pair of them lost in observing the movements of their baby, half him, half her. Perfection. Carla's tears were cascading down her cheeks, but she no longer cared. She was experiencing so many feelings hitting her all at once that she wasn't able to control her emotions. But through the relief, the happiness and the fear, one thought, one question, plagued her mind.
"Are you able to tell how far along I am?" she asked, sounding almost desperate. The sonographer peered carefully at the monitor and jotted down some numbers on the paperwork in front of her.
"What date did your doctor give you?"
"The nine of August, but that was based off my last period, and they've been all over the place since I had my transplant a few years ago."
"I'd say that's fairly accurate. I would suggest the seventh of August, judging by baby's measurements."
"And… Can you tell a conception date from that?" Carla asked, tentatively.
"From the due date, we'd give a conception date of approximately…" The sonographer glanced down at her paperwork and sketched another couple sums in the corner. "… The fourteenth of November. But that's a very rough estimate, conception could have occurred about a week either side of that." Carla's heart sank, though she was relieved to find that Peter's grip on her hand didn't slacken.
"It doesn't matter," he assured her, dropping his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, "That's my baby; our baby."
"Have you decided whether you would like to complete a combined screening test for Down's syndrome, Edwards' syndrome and Patau's syndrome?" the sonographer asked. Carla glanced up at Peter before nodding cautiously. They'd done their research; the procedure was non-invasive, and Carla had been assured that no harm would occur to the baby. "I'll arrange a blood test for you once you leave here. We have to send the test to another hospital, so you should hear back from them in a few weeks' time."
"It'll be fine, love," Peter promised her, pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to her cheek. Carla was grateful that her heartrate wasn't being monitored – that would have been such a giveaway. She looked back over at the monitor, her chest swelling and filling with love at the sight of their baby, which she already loved more than anything else in the world.
Johnny tried his best to focus on the black and white print of the newspaper that he held spread open in front of him but found that his eyes kept wandering to the clock on the wall, every second that passed making him grow nervous.
"She'll be alright, you know," Jenny assured him, placing a steaming mug of coffee, strong and black, just as his daughter took it, on the mat next to the paper, before sliding into the chair opposite him and putting down her own mug of tea. She'd seen the worry etched across her husband's face, and had pleaded with Daisy to mind the bar so that she could be with him until the wanderers returned.
"It's not her I'm worried about, out of the three of them." Johnny sighed, admitting defeat with the newspaper and letting it drop in front of him. "She's made of strong stuff. But they've been ages, what if there's something wrong with the baby? Or what if Peter's had a funny turn and they've taken him in? Or… I hate to even think it, but what if they've found out it's Adam's and she's gone 'round there in bits?"
"Or maybe they're both fine, maybe they're all fine, and they've gone to buy a bottle of flavored water to celebrate," Jenny replied, taking a sip of tea but gulping it down quickly as the back door opened, Carla soon appearing in doorway with Peter on her tail, broad grins spread across both of their faces.
"Hiya," Carla sung, her eyes bright and glittering as she shrugged off her winter coat and tossed it onto the sofa behind her, her tiny bump highlighted by the skin-tight striped top she'd chosen to wear with her leggings for the scan, "Don't look so worried, Johnny."
"I was beginning to think you'd moved out and were never coming home," he joked, though his relief was evident in the way his whole body seemed to relax once he could see for himself that she was safe and practically glowing.
"Yeah, well, this one's a cautious driver these days," she teased, giving Peter a playful wink over her shoulder. Finding out that their baby was healthy in spite of the stress she'd already put it through had lifted a huge weight off her shoulders, the tension she'd felt over the last few weeks beginning to drain away, leaving her feeling like herself again. Peter smiled back at her, unable to conceal the adoration in his eyes from her on-looking relatives.
"Precious cargo," he responded softly. Carla held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary before drawing out a little blue folder from her handbag and sliding an image on a thick piece of paper out of it and holding it out to Johnny.
"This should make up for it," she said, "Your beautiful grandchild." Johnny eagerly took the scan photo from Carla and held it between his fingers, admiring it from multiple different angles. He smiled, seeing the image in front of him making everything seem more like reality.
"Gorgeous," he agreed. Jenny quickly shuffled her chair around the table to sit beside him and peer over his shoulder, cooing at the photo.
"Did you find out owt else?" she asked, pointedly, to Carla in particular. Carla hesitated, but Peter quickly jumped to her rescue, sliding an arm around her waist and speaking on her behalf.
"We found out that it's perfectly healthy, and that it hasn't got two heads. That's all that matters," he responded, cryptically, "But we want another night to ourselves before it all hits the fan when we tell my family, so can you keep it to yourselves until tomorrow?"
"Of course." Johnny held the scan photo out to Carla to return it to her, but she shook her head.
"Keep it, we've got loads," she said, "I'm knackered. Is it alright if I go and have a lie down upstairs? I didn't sleep much last night."
"You don't have to ask, love," Johnny replied, "I'm glad you're all okay."
"I'd best be making a move as well," Peter said, reluctantly dropping his arm back down to his side, making Carla's smile waver at the loss of contact, "My dad knew I was being released from Detox this morning, he'll be starting to worry I'm lying drunk or dead in a gutter somewhere." His attempt at gallows' humor did not have the desired effect on Carla, who shot him a fierce, warning glare. She wasn't prepared to even joke about the thought of Peter succumbing to alcohol again. As the pair left the room, Jenny waited until she could hear the start of slow footsteps on the stairs before leaning her head closer to Johnny's.
"Are they back together?!" she hissed, glancing over at the living room door that had been left slightly ajar, "They're all touchy-feely." Johnny shrugged.
"Nothing would surprise me with those two. They're like a pair of magnets."
Meanwhile, Carla, two stairs up, turned back to Peter, who was hovering at the bottom of the staircase.
"Thank you for today," she murmured, softly. She touched Peter's upper arm affectionately, her hand lingering for a moment before she slowly trailed her fingertips down his arm and laced her fingers through his.
"Don't be daft, you've got nothing to thank me for," he replied, automatically moving closer to her and slowly rising onto the bottom step, "I'm so proud of you, you know."
"I didn't do anything."
"You're growing my baby. And you're being so strong. You're incredible." Carla felt her breath hitch in her throat at his proximity, his scent, his words, and the heat of his breath against the skin of her face, making every nerve ending in her body ache with the need to touch him and hold him close to her.
"You can come up with me, if you want to…" she offered, cautiously. Peter hesitated, his body aching with a longing to curl up beside her on top of her duvet and simply lay there with her all afternoon, but knowing how worried his father would be.
"I can't," he said, reluctantly, "But I'll call you later, and I'll see you tomorrow." Carla sighed softly as Peter dropped her hand and stepped down the stair, flashing her a small smile before reaching for the door handle and slipping out of the back door. He was still keeping a wall up between them. She understood why, but was determined that she would break it down.